


Glorious War

by JAMoczo



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: A duel at dawn of manly fisticuffs, Gen, Ike Unlikely Voice of Reason, Poor Bastian doesn't have a tag, Prank Wars, Soren learned nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAMoczo/pseuds/JAMoczo
Summary: PoR: Soren has no problem telling Elincia she's not good enough for the battlefield. Her retainers have a problem hearing it, though. And thus begins the war that makes Ashnard's look tame.





	1. Chapter 1

A/N:  I know technically Bastian speaks in iambic pentameter, but guys, I am so lazy that that is not going to happen.

Chapter One: 

               The scene was thus: Princess Elincia with her hands clasped to her chest, wearing white armor and standing next to a pegasus; Lord Ike shrugging at her asking to join the fray; and Bastian, Lucia and Geoffrey standing behind their liege, ready to defend her to the death.

               Ike was neutral about the whole thing, because that’s the kind of guy he is.  “It’s not something I can allow or disallow,” he admitted.  “She’s my employer.  If this is what the princess wants, all I can do is comply. Be careful, will you?”

            Elincia’s eyes brightened.  “Oh, thank you so much!”

Bastian put his hands over his heart.  “Let us go forth like sunlight to the dawn. Elincia fights, and Crimea wins the day!”

               The moment was ruined by Ike’s staff officer smoothly sliding in between his boss and Elincia.  “We may not be _allowed_ to tell you no, but I can certainly tell you why we _should_ ,” said Soren, every inch the professional.  “The rest of us have literally spent the last year fighting for our lives while you twiddled your thumbs in the background, so you are woefully behind in terms of experience or talent.  Right now, you are a subpar Mist.”

               Elincia for her part was not in the slightest bit embarrassed or put off; in fact, she was smiling.  “I can’t argue with you,” she said, voice fond.  Behind her, however, Lucia had to stop Geoffrey from pulling out his spear. 

               Bastian’s jaw dropped.  “How dare you, sir!  Her presence on the battlefield shall inspire the great knights that protect her!  The princess herself shall ride into the fray to directly lead her troops!  She risks her life!  We shall be victori-”

               “Okay that’s enough,” Soren interrupted.  “If royalty on the battlefield guaranteed victory, we will lose when the time comes because _Ashnard is there._   You know, the _king_ who killed the majority of your greatest warriors?  Having Mist Two on the battlefield is a waste of space and healing staves.”

               “Aaand now you’ve crossed the line from ‘pragmatic tactician’ to ‘jerk’,” Ike chimed in. 

               Soren cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Sorry, Commander.”

               “No one deserves to be called Mist Two,” Ike finished, clearly a little amused, mostly because it was obvious Elincia wasn’t offended.  He, however, did not see that now all three of her retainers had weapons drawn. 

               Elincia giggled.  “I know Soren only says these things because he doesn’t want people to get hurt unnecessarily.  He’s such a sweetheart, deep down.”

               Soren’s mouth opened and shut, and he clearly failed to think of a comeback before he hastily bid a retreat.

               “Awww,” the princess cooed. 

               Ike let out a sigh of relief.  “It’s good you finally get him.  Soren thinks his job is being cruel to be kind.  It’s adorable once you ignore the, you know, meanness of it.  Anyway, if you’re set on joining the battle, let’s get going.”

               “Yes, sir!” Elincia said cheerfully, saluting.  The friends smiled at each other and started walking to the rest of the army.

               The trio being left behind was certainly not in the same merry spirits. 

               “The shorty needs to die,” Lucia said, her hand clenched on the hilt of her sword.

               “Agreed,” said her brother, who was usually the voice of reason in these types of scenarios.  All bets were off when his precious Princess was insulted.

               Bastian regarded the twins thoughtfully, measuring their helpfulness in any plot.  Evidently deciding they were worthy of working with him in this, he said, “Alas, although we cannot outright kill him, we can certainly avenge our fair monarch’s honor.”  More seriously, he said, “I have ideas, but I am open to suggestions.”

* * *

 

               The battle hadn’t gone too terribly, all things considered.  There was a Rider of Daein acting as the leader of an army, and Elincia had been the albatross on their necks, but no one died on Team Crimea.  Huzzah. 

               Soren sighed as he walked back to his tent, fighting off a migraine.  He could give the after-battle report, later, technically speaking, considering the only qualifiers were that it had to be given after the battle.  Ike was always nagging him to sleep more, so a nap wouldn’t-

               While his internal monologue had been going on, he’d gone into his tent, had been about to lay down, and _then_ noticed that his bedroll was covered in _bugs_.

               “Ew,” he said, since he was alone and no one would judge him.  He held his hands to his chest and shifted on his feet, unsure what to do.  He’d had a bad relationship with the more creepy-crawly things in the world, starting from the time he was starving in the streets and everything looked tasty, and ending when the priests who taught him to talk started by shaving him bald to remove the infestation in his hair.  It wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ deal with bugs, but that he didn’t _want_ to. 

               Ike came into the tent.  “Hey, you okay – huh, how’d you get an earthworm – oh, is that a centipede?  Oh wow you have a whole collection of bugs here don’t you.”

               Soren was too squicked out to correct him.  “Ike, I’m going to need you to pick this entire blanket up and toss it into the nearest fire,” Soren said carefully. 

               Ike was snickering a little, but he did as bade.  “I pulled this on Mist once or twice when I was younger.  I think you just got pranked.”

               Soren decided the rest of the blankets needed to be set on fire too, just to be safe.  “Not funny.”

               “To you.”  Picking up on Soren’s distaste, Ike shrugged and dragged the rest of the bedroll to the fire too.  “Not to me either, right now, but it was hilarious to watch Mist scream.  Question is, who’d put bugs in your bedroll?”

               “Someone who wants me to kill them,” Soren suggested helpfully.

               “No.”

               “Darn.”  Soren racked his brain.  “Who did I offend most today?”

               “Elincia, but that seems out of character for her.”

               Soren nodded to himself slowly, and formulated his vengeance.

* * *

 

              

               Geoffrey was the first to drop out, and he did so the very next day.  “If the Princess is unoffended by the boy’s insults, then I can’t very well be either,” he admitted.

               “In other words, Geoffrey told Elincia about the bugs and she yelled at him,” Lucia translated.

               Bastian was undaunted.  “Very well, may your conscience be absolved of all things going forward, Sir Geoffrey.  I shall continue on, as it took me a solid hour to break out of my tent thanks to the way he sewed the flaps shut overnight.”  One great tent, wasted by needing to slice it open with a knife.  What a shame.  “What about you, Lady Lucia?  Will you continue on, knowing the Princess’ distaste for our mission?”

               Lucia shook her head.  “I know my strengths, and this is not one of them.  But, that being said, if you need anything from me, let me know.”

               Bastian nodded, dramatically placing his hand on his heart.  “Very well then.  The way we shall go forward then is the simplest: sage against sage!”

               “Eh,” said Geoffrey. 

               “Tactician against tactician!” the older man corrected. 

               “That’s slightly more equal,” said Lucia.  “I’m not exactly your biggest fan, but I know a one-sided fight when I see one and they’re kind of sad to watch.”

               Bastian pouted at her.  “Thank you for nothing.”

               “Don’t mention it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

               The next battle in the war took place days later, and was a noticeable escalation of hostilities.  Soren had taken a bath in a nearby river in the early morning, and been horrified at the end result.  When he walked into the morning meeting, he wasn’t the only one.

               “Oh my Goddess why are you blonde?” Ike asked, eyes huge.

               “You look like an albino Reyson,” Titania said, covering her mouth.

               “It’s not a good look,” said Reyson himself, peering morbidly.

               Soren’s long luxurious green-black locks were now a pale yellow and more straw-like than the silk they’d been before.  He considered telling, but that seemed to be cheating in a way and he would _not_ lose to Bastian.  Bastian was, in fact, sitting next to Elincia with a broad grin on his face, but that wasn’t terribly different from how he usually looked.  “An accident.  We have more important things to worry about.  Taking Castle Nados is our next goal, but it’s being held by many warriors and the Black Knight.”

               “You reek of bleach,” Ranulf said, covering his nose.  “How did you get so much of it?”

               “I like to be clean,” Soren drawled, unamused.  “We-”

               “Yeah but your clothes are black and purple,” the cat man interjected, and Soren fleetingly considered setting him on fire.  “And wow, I never really noticed before, but you have a lot of hair.”

               “I always wondered about why you people keep your hair so long,” Tibarn chimed in, looking at Reyson.  “Yours is long enough but your sister’s is down to her feet!”

               “I can’t speak for our tactician, but herons just have naturally beautiful hair,” Reyson sniffed, clearly displeased by the topic. “But speaking of my sister, this Black Knight was the one who kidnapped her, correct?” 

               “Yes,” said Soren just a little too quickly, before launching onto the specifics of the fort design as well as possible enemy setups.  Although everyone present was still obviously put-off by his appearance, they at least managed to mostly stay on topic.  Saying “Black Knight” enough times was enough to get Ike to focus, at least, and the others followed his example.

               After the meeting, while Soren was internally debating his next moves on a number of fronts – assisting Ike with the Black Knight, what to do with his poor hair, how to make Bastian suffer – the other mage stopped him with a hand on his elbow.  “I’m quite sorry about your hair.  It’s such a shame.  I can only hope that you find the vagabond who would do such a terrible thing to your esteemed self.”  He had the absolute worst “innocent” face that Soren had ever seen, which was impressive considering none of the Greil Mercenaries could lie to save their lives.

               “I already did, don’t worry,” Soren replied levelly.  “Thankfully I am used to being pestered by arrogant weaklings, so this isn’t exactly new for me.  Still, your condolences are deeply appreciated.”

               Bastian leaned in.  “I haven’t even gotten started yet, little boy.  Of course, all of this can be forgiven by you apologizing to Her Majesty.”

               Soren leaned in too.  “Why Bob, I would never apologize for speaking the truth.”

               “Bob?  My name is Bast-”

               “Okay if you two kiss it will ruin my faith in humanity,” Ike interrupted, causing the two to break apart. 

               “I don’t like blondes,” Bastian said jovially before walking away.  Soren decided he felt better by keeping silent and envisioning stabbing him in the chest. 

               “That was weird,” said Ike, “Should I be worried?”

               “No, not at all.  We’re just having a bit of a dispute.  You see, he somehow thinks he’s better than me.”

               Ike looked somewhat surprised.  “Okay, like, I’d give him a magic score of like, 19.  You’re more like a 30.  How does he figure?”

               “He’s a dumbass,” Soren replied, finally smiling.

* * *

    

 

               His happiness in general, and with Ike in particular, took a hit when the General decided it was his duty to fight the Black Knight in a one-on-one duel.  Soren had tried to go in to help, but Titania held him back.  To make matters worse, that meant no one stopped Mist from going in. 

               His emotions were high, and since the real cause of his anger was in mortal danger, Soren had to displace his rage.  He gave Titania his best glare.  “How dare you-”

               “Vulneraries,” she interrupted calmly.  His momentum lost, he went silent.  This gave her the opportunity to continue.  “They’re expensive, but using them as a hair mask is incredibly deep conditioning.”  She shook her head a little to make her massive crimson braid move.   “I can’t speak to the color, but the condition should go back to normal.  Speaking of, how did you manage to keep your hair so silky beforehand?”

               He had to give her a little glare, but he decided to let her distract him.  Reyson joined in and the three shared hair tips and vengeance stories.  It was very illuminating.

               And when Ike survived and was victorious, Soren punched him in the nose, healed him, apologized, and knew exactly what he would do to Bastian. 

               All told, a fabulous day.

* * *

 

               Bastian was smirking as he walked back to his tent in the dark.  The day had been won, Soren had been mortified at the bleaching of his ridiculous hair, the Black Knight was dead, and Princess Elincia had only sighed at the antics of her tactician. 

               All told, a fabulous day.

               The day got even better when he noticed someone resting in his tent.  It was too dark to see details, but the person had fair hair, that much he could tell.  “Why, hello dear,” he cooed, sliding into his roll behind the visitor.  Too large to be Lucia, alas.  “May I ask your…”  His voice trailed off as his hand landed on a damp, masculine chest.

               He held the person’s shoulder and pulled it towards him, soon finding himself face to face…with a blonde bearded man… who was dead from a gaping chest wound.

               Those were a lot of details.  He wasn’t sure how to handle them, so he went with the most offensive one first.  “I’m much more handsome than this Daeinite fool!”


	3. Chapter 3

               Shinon was obviously very confused.  “So, let me get this straight,” he said, voice slurred.  “You want me… to shoot Soren.”

               “Yes,” said Bastian, completely serious.

               “Shoot him dead, or shoot him ‘accidentally’?” Shinon asked, because this needed clarification and not just because he was drunk.

               “’Accidentally’, and not fatally,” the other man admitted.  “If I wanted him dead, I’d pay Volke.  But you have plenty of reasons for wanting to stick a couple arrows in him, so I will compensate you to do so in return for your silence on my involvement.”

               Shinon considered this, nodding to himself as he thought it out.  He belched.  “It sounds fun, but, he’d kill me.”

               “I will take care of his weaponry,” said Bastian, proud of his Corrosion skill for the first time ever.  “You just have to accidentally on purpose shoot him.”

               “That seems like a bad idea on the face of it,” he admitted.  “But I love money, and I hate Soren, so it’s a deal.”  He held out his hand, but fell over before Bastian could shake on it. 

               “He’s perfect,” the mage said brightly.  

* * *

 

               As he always did, Soren followed Ike into the fray, tomes at the ready.  They seemed a little lighter than usual, but he didn’t let it bother him; he always checked the status of his weapons the night before every battle, and last night had not been an exception. 

               When his fire tome disintegrated, he paid it no mind.  He had more tomes in his bag, and the feral laguz were in a wide enough variety that he wouldn’t be using just fire magic anyway.

               When his lightning tome disintegrated, he was irritated and wondered if maybe he’d grabbed the wrong bag by accident.  That was out of character for him, but not within the realm of implausibility.

               When his wind tome disintegrated, he swore and knew he’d been retaliated against.  Thankfully he still had a heal staff so he wasn’t completely worthless, but –

               His attention was caught up by the destruction of his defenses that he barely noticed a feral tiger preparing to pounce on him until the poor creature got its head chopped off.  “And people wonder why I follow you around,” Soren muttered to himself, looking over his savior to see if he needed healing.

               Ike was obviously worried.  Although they’d been leading the charge, he didn’t seem to mind as other soldiers passed them.  “It’s not like you to be caught so off guard!  Are you planning on killing these things with your healing stick?  Where’s your book?”

               Soren scowled as he admitted.  “I don’t have any tomes.”

               “You – you what?”  Now Ike looked even more horrified than he had at Soren’s unexpected blondeness.

               When faced with either telling on Bastian or having Ike feel he had failed as a staff officer, Soren felt no shame in kicking Bastian under the proverbial carriage.  “Given the state my formerly pristine tomes were in, I have to conclude that Bastian must have used his Corrosion skill to weaken them all just enough for me to not realize it until it was too late.”

               Now Ike looked pissed off.  “Is he insane?  You need your weapons!  You’re on the front line of a war!”  Ike took Soren’s shoulders in his hands and demanded in his best General Ike voice, “What is going on?”

               Soren sighed and admitted, “I put a dead body in his tent.”

               “You… you what?”

               “Because he put bleach in my shampoo.”

               “Oh.”

               “Because I sewed his tent flaps shut.”

               “That’s not that bad…”

               “Because he put creepy crawly icky things in my bedroll.”

               “Right, that I remember.”

               “Because I insulted Elincia.”

               “Ohhhh.”  Ike scowled.  “For clarification, was the dead body a pre-dead person, or did you just murder someone?”

               “It was someone we killed from Daein, don’t worry.  I had to find someone with a blonde beard, but I did.”

               “And you dragged that sucker all the way from Nados Castle to Bastian’s tent undetected.”  Ike nodded as he considered everything.  “I’m both impressed and embarrassed by you right now.  Still, leaving you defenseless on a battlefield?  He crossed a line and I’ll have a ‘talk’ with him.”

               “No!”  Soren took Ike’s hand.  “No, I know just the way to end this.”

               The two started at each other before Ike finally sighed, acquiescing.  “All right.  But if you don’t end this, _I will_.”

               Neither of them noticed arrows haphazardly flying by until Titania started yelling at Shinon for being drunk on the battlefield. 

             

* * *

 

               Bastian celebrated that evening’s victories and failures by getting drunk with the men.  His Princess Elincia had been a beacon of hope as she prepared her armies.  In that, at least, he had been proven correct; her joining the fray had been a boon, both to morale and to Elincia’s skill and self-esteem. 

               However, news from the battle for Gritnea Tower had been mixed.  Princess Leanne had been rescued, but the feral laguz architect had vanished, and more importantly Shinon had missed every single shot at Soren. 

               Oh well, not every investment was a good one.  Next time, he’d pay someone a little more sober.

               “And it’s not like I don’t have money!” he said out loud, drinking.  To his left sat Makalov, who was staring at him with stars in his eyes.  To his left was Shinon, who was still drunk.  “And at the end of the day, I have money.  He doesn’t have money.”

               “I love your money,” said Makalov wistfully. 

               “I know you do, you marvelous man with your pink inexplicable ‘fro,” he replied, petting that hair.  “Look at you, you’re like a technicolor bush.  I want to clip you.”

               “You can cut any hair on my body if you pay for it,” Makalov replied.  The two clinked their mugs together and drank.

               The bartender was a lovely young wench with long black hair.  Bastian’s vision was a little blurry, so he couldn’t be sure if it was Aimee or not.  It didn’t look quite like her, but who else… was there…

* * *

 

               Bastian woke up with a migraine, which was atypical.  He remembered something about going out on the town, having fun, but… the rest was a blur.

               And he was tied into a chair. 

               He groaned, more with distaste than anything else.  It seemed as if he’d been drugged and kidnapped. 

               “Good evening, Billy,” said a familiar voice.  Bastian squinted, able to see Soren sitting next to him, reading a scroll.  To his surprise, he was wearing a woman’s outfit and his hair was back to being black.  “I have to say, I like you better when you’re drunk.  So amiable.  For example, you let me take money from your purse to reimburse me for dyeing my hair.  And then, well, just look this beautiful letter you wrote me.”  He held it up, and Bastian struggled to read the impeccable calligraphy.

               _I, Bastian, Count of Fayre, do hereby declare that I am inferior in every respect to Soren of the Greil Mercenaries.  I barely qualify as a mage, my tactics are a joke, and my facial hair is stupid._

And there was his name, his _signature_ , at the bottom, written… in blood. 

               Bastian, caught off guard, swore.

               Soren gave him a condescending tsk.  “What a shame.  It seems like you have poor self-esteem.  You ought to go talk to a counselor after the end of the war.  Well, after Ashnard’s war.  After all,” he let out a very serpentine smile, “you already lost this one.”  He stood up, rolled up the scroll, kicked a knife to Bastian’s feet, and left the dark room.

There were conflicting emotions now.  On the one hand, Soren had made him sign a Blood Pact that essentially said “you suck.”  Blood Pacts could be used for terrible purposes, so in a way Bastian had gotten off lucky. 

               But.

               _But._

               **_BUT._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this ridiculous story! Thanks for reading!

"I want you to kill Soren," said Bastian to Volke the next day.

"You're not thinking clearly," said Volke, which was a surprise.

Bastian considered it before sighing. "You're right. But, I will pay you to give me his greatest weakness for me to exploit."

The assassin stared at him. "Wow," he said, although his voice was still the typical monotone. "If you need to ask me, you clearly haven't been paying attention. I'm not sure if that means I should charge you more or less."

"I have a beast of a migraine and am really not in the mood for being teased," Bastian growled.

Volke rolled his eyes, holding out a hand. "One."

Bastian paid up, not complaining.

"His obvious weakness is obviously Ike, obviously. If you want to hurt Soren, hurt Ike instead. Duh."

Bastian made a face. "That doesn't help much. Ike is the general of this army. He's essentially untouchable. What exactly am I supposed to do now?"

Volke gestured to the other people in the bar. The place was crowded and the room was tense, likely due to tomorrow's battle against Ashnard's elites and the king himself. "Ask around."

Bastian sighed and turned on his stool to face the people. "Soren and I are battling for supremacy. How should we compete next?"

"Manly fisticuffs!" proclaimed Kieran, who spake with the fire of a thousand suns.

"Duel at dawn!" exclaimed Mia, who shared a fist-bump with Kieran.

"Drinking contest!" said Shinon, who was still drunk.

"Cooking war!" suggested Illyana, without any ulterior motive.

"Letting bygones be bygones," said Rhys, who was ignored.

"Doing all the dishes," added Mist, who was unamused.

"Rap battle!" offered Devdan, who made no sense.

"Immolation challenge!" yelled Tormod, who also made no sense.

"I second the manly fisticuffs," said Oscar, who surprised everyone else. It brought the conversation to a screeching halt. "What?" the green-haired man asked calmly. "Think about it."

It became apparent that everyone was thinking about it and slowly came to the same realization. Mia jumped up and squealed, "Manly fisticuffs in a duel at dawn! Tomorrow is the _best day ever!"_

"Oh no," said Bastian.

* * *

Soren was already up the next day when Bastian, who had a large group of soldiers behind him, approached. "Soren of the Greil Mercenaries, I hereby challenge you to a duel!"

"At dawn!" Mia cried with great joy.

"Of manly fisticuffs!" Kieran added.

Soren looked horrified. _"Oh god why."_

Bastian raised his hands in fists, putting up his dukes. "Because it is time to settle this like the gentleman I am and the gentle _boy_ you are."

"Oh snap!" said Tormod.

"In the name of Princess Elincia, prepare yourself to be punched!"

Soren looked at Bastian, looked at the crowd, then looked back at Bastian. "This is so stupid, do you have any idea-"

Out of any other options, Bastian shot a punch at him. Soren dodged. Bastian tried to punch him again. Soren dodged.

"This is better than I imagined it would be," said Gatrie whimsically. A bunch of the onlookers had popcorn.

"It's nice that although Soren is a better mage than me, he's not good at everything," said Calill whimsically as she handed out cocoa to everyone. "And it's great to see they're both kind of idiots."

"Try to hit me back!" Bastian cried, frustrated.

"I don't know how!" Soren snapped back, also frustrated.

"Fine!" Bastian pulled out his dagger. "Prepare to be _stabbed!_ "

"Ooooooooh," said the audience at this turn of events.

Soren's eyes went wide and he grabbed his own non-magical weapon… A healing staff. Bastian tried to stab Soren, and Soren hit him with the healing staff. It didn't hurt.

"This is amazing," Oscar said.

"Could use more swords," said Mia, and Kieran gave her another fist-bump.

Frustrated, Bastian resorted to cutting barbs as he attempted to hit his opponent with cutting blades. "You know you picked a fight with me because you're incapable of growing facial hair!"

Soren was landing hits, but it didn't matter because the staff made it a point to heal every "wound" inflicted, which were minimal due to Soren's pathetic upper arm strength. "Says the one who made it a point to try ruining my hair!"

Bastian vaguely heard a female voice commanding him to stop, but a moment later he had no choice because a massive fist slammed itself into Bastian's stomach. He crumpled to the ground, holding his poor midsection and trying to not throw up. The audience let out disappointed groans.

"That was quite possibly the saddest thing I've ever seen," said General Ike, unimpressed.

Princess Elincia encouraged Bastian to uncurl so she could heal his stomach. "Did you need to punch him that hard?" she asked.

"I kind of did," Ike said.

"None of that was my idea," Soren said quickly.

"Oh please, I know exactly whose idea this was," Ike replied, turning to give two members of the audience dirty looks. Mia and Kieran had very similar expressions of saccharine-sweet innocence on their faces. "If we weren't about to go fight Ashnard today I'd make it a rule you two were never allowed to talk again."

"No regrets," said Mia, who shared a third fist-bump with Kieran.

"And you, I thought you said you were going to end this?" Ike asked Soren.

Elincia was confused. "End what?"

"For most people, being forced sign a blood pact is when you quit," Soren pointed out.

"A blood pact?"

"Don't worry about it. All you need to know is that I have it in writing that I'm better than Bastian, and that's all that matters."

"What is going on?" Elincia demanded, looking at her own tactician.

Bastian wanted to bury his head in the dirt. But he did love his princess, and so he recounted the tale from the beginning, being sure to leave out the part where he copped a feel on a dead body.

Lucia and Geoffrey were standing with Elincia. "I am so happy I got out early," Lucia commented, smiling behind her hand. He gave her a dirty look, but her mirth did not fade.

"I'm not going to lie, my ideas began and ended with stabbing him," Geoffrey admitted. "It's nice to know that Bastian's ideas weren't all that better or different."

"That is enough," Elincia chided. She stood up, cleared her throat, and with a graceful serenity she began to summarize the moral of the story. "Listen, throughout our lives we will encounter many kinds of people. Some are unerringly kind, some lack diplomacy at all, some simply seek to harm, and others may be like Soren here and have the right idea but be kind of a huge jerk about it. And while I appreciate you standing up for me, the fact of the matter is that I wasn't bothered, and your instigation made the situation worse." She paused. "Also, he was wrong. At this point Mist is really more Elincia Two."

"Hey," said Mist, confused.

"My point, is that sometimes you need to walk away when you're angry instead of causing a fight. Words only hurt if you let them."

Everyone gave her polite applause, although the audience still looked disappointed.

Bastian sighed, knowing when to give up. "Fair Princess Elincia, you shame me. I have learned a valuable lesson this day; that you can defend yourself without my help, and I need to devote myself to less petty tasks."

Everyone looked to Soren.

"I learned absolutely nothing," he said.


End file.
